Maps
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: WIP - NO SLASH! - The Fate of the DPS after graduating Welton....with my own twist. FLuff and Drama ahead. Enjoy. RR!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: YAY!!!!!! Finally, I have started a DPS ff!!! Gawd, I LOVE DPS!!!!! ^_^ I shall have to write another one-shot for DPS that is totally angst, but this actually a fic that's half-cheerful! ^_^ Hope you all like it! Please read and Review!  
  
Disclaimer: DPS is property of Peter Weir and the writer of the original novel. "Maps" belongs to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. ( Fucking awesome song. )  
  
Maps  
  
-::-  
  
Chapter I.  
  
Somehow, they had survived Welton. Already, they had been graduated for four months, and the fall failed to bring a new school year at the preparatory school for the first time in their lives. The places they arrived upon after having graduated and turning into men were unexpected by most of them. Meeks, of course, had gone off to college in New York, relishing Princeton even after the first month of freshman year had passed. Pitts had found some college in upstate New Jersey, appeasing his parents. Knox Overstreet had escaped his parents' aspiration of their son becoming a lawyer and had instead pursued a newfound interest in philosophy, though he worked toward a psychology degree. Chris Noell had coincidentally been accepted to a neighboring college, and the two were still together but without any worries of Chet Danbury. As for Charlie Dalton, he proved both his parents and friends wrong. He did not bend to his father's will to become a banker, and he did indeed get into a college: Juliard had taken him in, where he was set to graduate with a music major and a history as the lead saxophonist in the college's jazz band. The whereabouts of Richard Cameron were unknown.  
  
Todd Andersen had survived Welton too. He didn't know how, but he had managed. He had settled in New York as well, like most of the others. Nothing had been planned, but perhaps it had turned out that way because each of them had a desire to stay together in their subconscious. Of the ones who lived in NY, none of them had a drive longer than an hour between them. They called at least once a week, arranged to have lunch or dinner or coffee equally as often and sometimes wrote letters for the sake of getting mail and the old romantics within them. Sure, they would have dispersed and pursued lives elsewhere, farther from their original homes and Welton. Perhaps they would have found more adventure, but they certainly would have lost each other. They were satisfied with the way things were. ~*~ Pack up  
  
I've strayed  
  
Enough  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
Oh, say say say ~*~  
  
"I'm home." Todd called out to announce his arrival as he shut the door to his apartment. A brown paper bag was tucked in his arm, full of some groceries to keep the refrigerator fairly occupied. He dropped the keys on the kitchen counter, murmured a greeting to the cat that strode alongside him on the countertop, and set the bag down next to the sink. As he began to rummage through it to put things away, he was answered.  
  
"Mr. Keating called," came the voice of his roommate. Todd shut the fridge door and headed into the small living room that had been turned into a study, eager at the news. John Keating, the man that had changed his life, had not abandoned the successors of the Dead Poets Society. He had returned to England, to find another teaching job and reunite with his ladylove, but he had not let go of the boys that had connected with him at his short time in Welton the previous year. He made sure that for the remained of their senior year, he was in contact with them to keep them in the right frame of mind about things. If not for John Keating, they would perhaps be living the miserable destinies that their parents had set out for them.  
  
"Oh, really," Todd replied breathlessly. "What did he say?" Keating was more of a father to the boys than their biological ones would ever be. Besides each other, he meant the most to them. Todd slid down into the empty chair beside the desk, waiting for details.  
  
"Well, he says hello," the other boy told him with a sly grin. Todd laughed shortly, nodding. That much was obvious, he commented. The other boy enjoyed the torment of moving around whatever it was he wanted to hear, however. "He's doing well, and he's still with Sophie," he continued. Todd nodded again – more facts that he had known before. The other smirked in amusement. "All right, all right," he surrendered. "He says to keep your head about you, to keep writing, and he'll call again in a couple of days." Todd was finally satisfied – but his roommate wasn't finished yet. Todd gaped in disbelief for a moment when he was told that Keating would be coming back to the States in a few weeks for a visit.  
  
"No way," he said, once he recovered from the shock. The other grinned broadly, eyes twinkling. Todd broke into the biggest smile he was to have that day, unsure of what to do with himself because of his excitement. He bound away from the desk, back into the kitchen, cheering loudly. His roommate smiled as he returned to scratching out his English literature paper. The lamplight reflected off his glasses.  
  
"Did he call Knox and Meeks and Charlie and Pitts?" Todd questioned from in the kitchen, as he leaned into the refrigerator to grab a couple of Cokes. His roommate replied that Keating had said he would, and Todd suggested they call the others tonight to share in the anticipation. He returned to his seat beside the desk, offering his companion a Coke, who took it, as the cat jumped up into Todd's lap. Todd's companion commented on his poorly hidden joy, for the other young man knew the poet too well. Todd, however, simply smiled into his Coke.  
  
~*~  
  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you  
  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you  
  
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!  
  
They don't love you like I love you  
  
~*~  
  
After sitting in comfortable silence for a while, the phone rang and the cat was lifted from Todd's lap. The boy, barely a man at 18, shuffled into the kitchen again. The empty glass bottle hung limply in his hand that dangled it at his side; the cat followed. Scratching resumed in the study, the pen having been returned to the paper. Todd cried out the name "Nuwanda" from the kitchen, and his roommate smiled wordlessly at his desk. The boy who had once been painfully quiet began to chirp away loudly, until his roommate gave up on maintaining concentration.  
  
"You look like a smitten school girl, Todd," he laughed. Todd only smirked at him, listening to Charlie Dalton on the phone and twisting the cord around his finger. As often as he spoke with one of his best friends, a call or a letter always sent him into a new state of bouncy happiness.  
  
~*~  
  
Made off  
  
Don't stray  
  
My kind's your kind  
  
I'll stay the same  
  
~*~  
  
"Hey, is that who I think it is?" Charlie said knowingly. Todd grinned and confirmed. "Oh, yeah, he's here, all right." The poet eyed his companion, shifting about in the same, invisible circle around the phone. Yet in another moment, the conversation turned away from the other young man to John Keating. Todd almost squealed in delight when Charlie mentioned it again, and his roommate could not contain a laugh. He guessed Charlie was just as rushed about it as Todd, without having to get on the phone with him. After minutes of tipping his Coke back and forth to sip, Todd turned back to him and asked Charlie if he wanted to have a word with him.  
  
"Yeah, get the sorry-ass over here," Charlie replied, causing Todd to chuckle, before he offered his companion the phone. He stood away from the wall, since he had been leaning against it, and plodded toward Todd, his Coke bottle empty at his side. He exchanged the bottle with Todd for the phone, and the poet set the two bottles on the counter, where the cat sat beside with its tail curled around them.  
  
"Hello, Charlie," he said, his voice smooth and almost furtive.  
  
"Damn it, Neil," Charlie began. "The name's Nuwanda."  
  
Neil Perry laughed lightly into the phone, never tiring of the old line from his friend. None of them had forgotten where it had been born from – the time last school year when Charlie had pulled the phone-call- from-God stunt; he had been punished, to put it vaguely, and had ended up saying those exact words to Neil. The two exchanged the standard questions and answers on each other's welfare, before moving on to Keating's impending visit.  
  
Neil Perry had nearly died a year ago. He had attempted suicide, overdosing on a load of pills that had been lying around his parents' house. His parents had found him before it was too late, fortunately. The actor had fallen into a deep depression, broken by the life imposed upon him by his father. The Dead Poets, however, had flown to his side and stayed every day they were needed. Mr. Keating had been fired from Welton, but did not return to England until Neil was recovered and settled into the life he needed to stay alive. The boys and Keating had ensured that after Neil's attempted suicide, his parents left him alone in consideration of his well being. Miraculously, Mr. Perry had reluctantly agreed. By the time the year had ended, Neil had been ready to break away from him on his own. The remainder of the year following Neil's attempted suicide had been a tremendous challenge for every member of the Dead Poets Society, excluding Cameron, who had been promptly dismissed from all friendships with the others after his blatant betrayal of Mr. Keating. Keating's departure had been difficult for Neil to bear, but he had survived that too. Once Keating had left and Charlie was taken back into Welton after being expelled by his father's persuasion, the boys continued their senior year quietly.  
  
They had graduated, and they had set their plans in motion, those plans they had been scheming up once Keating was gone. They could not resign to hopelessness once the fire of ambition had been stirred up within them, and Neil had needed something to hold onto. Every DPS meeting, which was carefully and meticulously executed, included talk of what they would do after graduation and how they would manage to do it. They had each submitted applications in secret to the colleges of their choice and had kept their acceptances clandestine as well. Once graduation had arrived, they boldly announced their decisions to their parents, together, and had endured the hell of fighting that had ensued. Todd had been accepted to Columbia University in New York, and he had decided to pursue poetry. Neil had been accepted to Juliard, along with Charlie, to pursue acting. He and Todd had known without discussion that they didn't want to separate, and splitting the rent for an apartment in the city provided the perfect excuse. Needless to say, the two of them had never known more happiness.  
  
~*~  
  
Pack up  
  
Don't stray  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
~*~  
  
"What do you say to dinner and coffee at the club tomorrow night?" Nuwanda suggested. The DPS had unofficially chosen their favorite café- restaurant in the city, calling it the club. Neil agreed, along with Todd, and both of them were already looking forward to the following night. " Great, I'll bring Knoxious along," Charlie said, and Neil smirked with him simultaneously. They said their good-byes and hung up; Neil returned to the desk and his nearly finished paper. His glasses settled on the bridge of his nose again, as he recollected his thoughts. Yet just as he began to get back into the flow, Todd's hands gripped his shoulders and began to give them a pleasurable massage. Neil shuddered and tensed, before relaxing under his best friend's ministrations. He had dropped his pen again, and his eyes were closed in comfort. It seemed this had become a daily ritual – one of them would be at the desk, working diligently, and the other would start giving them a back rub without a word.  
  
~*~  
  
Wait! they don't love you like I love you  
  
Wait! they don't love you like I love you  
  
Ma-a-a-aps, wait!  
  
They don't love you like I love you...  
  
~*~  
  
"Dinner with Charlie and Knox tomorrow night," Todd murmured. "And Mr. Keating is coming back." The two of them silently thought the same – life was only improving for them. The cat jumped up into the empty chair. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yay! Here it is! Chapter 2! I really love this chapter....Any feedback would be great! Btw, the poem is M-I-N-E. Mine. I know most of you are good, but those of you who are evil, stay the hell away from my poem! The words are from Shakespeare's Hamletand totally not mine. ( Specifically, Hamlet talking to Horatio, damn I love those two...) Maps lyrics are in here again and are within two signs.  
  
If you're interested, I posted another DPS fic, entitled Autumn. Check it out!   
  
Thanks!  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Todd paced into Neil's bedroom with dinner in hand. Left over Chinese take-out from last night had been warmed up in the oven set on low,while he had slow-danced with the cat. Neil had wandered upstairs just as Todd had begun to rummage through the refrigerator for possible food, but not before the actor had paraded into the kitchen shouting Shakespeare in triumph. He had finished his paper. Todd had looked up from his thoughts to smile at his best friend, having absolutely no idea which play Neil's obscure words came from. Neil had dazzled the kitchen with his smile in reply to Todd's, gliding to the poet with sparkling eyes. He lunged at Todd, who chuckled as he leaned back on the countertop. The actor hissed some nonsense about lingering in kitchens of the soul with bottled fountains in the shelves and tigers roaming. The cat looked up at him with big eyes.  
  
Pack up  
  
I've strayed  
  
Enough  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
"Neil," Todd said with his heart bursting again to have this friend, though he had woken up with Neil for countless days now. "Do you love me?" Everyday, the poet would ask his brother, and everyday, Neil would answer him with the same words that Todd whispered to himself whenever he woke up after a nightmare.  
  
"Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, aye, in my heart of hearts, As I do thee."   
  
They're eyes were locked in a beam of expression, before Neil tossed it aside and wrapped his arms around Todd, his head sliding down the poet's chest. Todd could feel Neil smile against his heart, as his own arms enveloped the actor. Oh, God, he loved Neil. He loved Neil, he loved everything about Neil, he loved everything inside Neil, he loved the clothes Neil left behind like clouds on the sky of his mattress, he loved the opened books Neil left scattered in his room like birds frozen in flight. He loved this apartment for belonging to them both, a place where they could be anyone they wanted to be and no one would judge them. He loved these walls that shielded them from the world, giving them moment of not breathing in each other's arms. He loved Neil for being his best friend. He loved Neil for being his brother. He loved Neil.  
  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you  
  
Wait, they don't love you like I love you  
  
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!  
  
They don't love you like I love you  
  
Todd remembered the night when Neil admitted how much he loved the poet, the night he was born. It had been a night in last December, three weeks after Neil's attempted suicide. Todd had known it was snowing outside because of the silence. Darkness stole minutes away from his life as he lay in bed with open eyes. Neil had whimpered his name like fear in the blackness, scaring Todd the same way everything scared him back then. The poet had answered him, the actor had painfully admitted he was afraid, and for the first time in those three weeks, Todd felt like Neil was still with him. He had taken the actor in his bed, pressing his own back against the wall. Their bodies, their limbs covered in pinstripe flannel pajamas, had been squished together in that creaking bed. Todd had only been thankful that it was warm after having his body lie still in it, instead of that cold beds can sometimes be – turning people away. Neil had begun to cry, lying next to Todd. He had been in so much pain; it still hurt Todd to remember it. That had been the first time he had let himself go and do what his guts were screaming at him to do. He had pulled Neil into his arms, after days and days of wanting to but never trying. He had hugged another human being for the first time in years. He had held Neil Perry in the dark, feeling tears soak through to his chest, crying wordlessly into Neil's hair that reminded him of autumn leaves and laughter in beautiful places and moving through love. Together, they had fallen asleep. In the twilight before dawn, Todd's eyes had lifted open like lazy waves.  
  
"I love you," Neil had whispered, his breath like a velvet blade against Todd's heart. The poet had ceased to live in that moment. The scared, lonely, suffering boy had died, taking all of his self-loathe and pain with him. The man Todd was now had been born from the ashes in that moment, with Neil Perry's limbs tangled in his and Neil Perry's words reviving him and Neil Perry's lips like a rose over his heart.  
  
"Why?" he had questioned in a shaken breath.  
  
"You saved me," Neil had answered, burying his face in the folds of the poet's soul. They lay in their embrace while twilight made the world look like a book, while the sun heralded a new day in the dawn, while muffled noise pervaded their door from the teeming corridor. Every moment of every day after that, Todd had wanted to hug Neil and never let go. Every moment of every day that they had to spend at Wellton after than, Todd had chained himself when he sat in the same classroom as Neil, wanting to be held. The poet would lean against Neil's shoulder or lie in Neil's arms or wrap himself up in Neil's coat every DPS meeting after that night. The others would just look at Neil and Todd, the actor and the poet, two of their best friends, and smile at the freedom they manifested.  
  
Made off  
  
Don't stray  
  
My kind's your kind  
  
I'll stay the same  
  
Todd somehow remembered all of this across the bedroom floor, his socks sliding over the burgundy carpet. Neil was sitting in bed with his back to the wall, reading. The room was dimly lit with the actor's bedside lamp and a few ivory candles scattered across shelves and tables. Todd couldn't see the words reflected in his best friend's glasses, leading him to the conclusion that it must be a textbook. He didn't hesitate once he reached the bed and climbed in next to his best friend. The textbook slipped closed and slid over the side of Neil's lap when Todd offered him a white carton with red pagodas painted on the sides. Neil smiled as the carton bloomed and exhaled its sweet aroma. Two days did not leave him tired of lo mein and sweet and sour pork. His plastic fork seduced the noodles and trapped them in its dull prongs. Todd spooned mouthfuls of house fried rice into his own hunger. They exchanged shrimp without a word.  
  
Pack up  
  
Don't stray  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
Oh, say say say  
  
After a while, Todd had enough of food and left the empty carton next to him on the bed. He dropped his head on to Neil's waiting shoulder and closed his eyes. He breathed as if he were dreaming and listened to the record revolving in the corner, singing in French like a Nazi-torn town in Holland. Todd didn't understand a word, not one lovely word, but it was okay, because Neil did. He thought about Neil wanting to run away to Paris for his own self-indulgence, to laugh in the subways, to sip a cappuccino in the rain, to meet some woman with short black hair, red lipstick, and a cigarette, to get lost in her fishnets. He thought about writing poetry at the top of the Eiffel Tower, with a whole veil of dotted lights strewn below him, like a reflection of the sky. He thought about standing in a Parisian chocolate shop with his best friend and drinking cheap champagne and loving him again.  
  
Todd breathed like a sleeping child and Neil's scent invaded his lungs. He remembered, behind his closed eyes, the poem he wrote to the actor about what he thought he smelled like.  
  
You smell like passion and poetry and vanilla candles, Glowing in my heart forever.   
  
Neil had held him for a long time after reading it.  
  
You smell like quiet snow and beauty and blackened matches, The little flames you left on my heart Like petals of a nameless flower.   
  
Neil had cried.  
  
You smell like the blanket that kept me from freezing When I fell asleep in Antarctica, Frosted with the tears I never knew existed.   
  
Neil had held him with a weeping heart, and Todd had not known whether he wept with joy or sorrow or both.  
  
You smell like falling leaves And rose petals still beautiful satin, Scattered in my palms.   
  
Todd remembered the poem Neil had answered him with, scrawled in blank ink on a piece of creased paper the color of tulips in Amsterdam. He remembered his own tears seeping under his fingernails, making his eyelashes look wet.  
  
You smell like poetry and sugar cookies  
  
And the gentle soul I love. You smell like the glowing embers I take with me into bed to keep me warm. You smell like a lullaby soothing my nightmares, Weaving my dreams into your fingers. You smell like my long coat that I sleep in When you're not with me, so I don't fall apart.   
  
He opened his eyes when he felt gentle hands guiding him to a familiar pillow. He looked into Neil's smiling face as he lay down, before closing his eyes again when sweet sleep enveloped him. He wondered if the cat was still on the windowsill as Neil slipped into bed next to him. Something soft, warm, and fluffy brushed up against his face and settled above his head on the pillow.  
  
Wait! they don't love you like I love you  
  
Wait! they don't love you like I love you  
  
Ma-a-a-aps, wait!  
  
They don't love you like I love you...  
  
TBC 


End file.
